


The Things We Keep

by kameo_chan



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Frottage, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurogane and Fai and the pros and cons of ageing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Keep

Syaoran and Mokona are fast asleep on the floor of the tiny living room of the even tinier flat that they're renting, and Fai turns to Kurogane and gives him a smile that's one part affection and three parts unadulterated idiocy. It's a silly thing, and if Kurogane were the type of man who used words like a painter uses a paintbrush, he would have said that Fai's smile consisted of rainbows and angelic laughter and puppies and kittens and all manner of obnoxiously sweet-happy things. But he's not, and so he doesn't. Instead he reaches out a hand, tugs at the back of the mage's pants and watches in satisfaction as Fai lets himself fall and land neatly in his lap with a soft thud and his bony ass poking at Kurogane's upper legs.

The commotion doesn't disturb the two other occupants of the room one bit, and for a moment, both he and the mage quiet down and look, really _look_ , at the white manjuu and the kid. Well, Kurogane amends, the not-so-much-a-kid-anymore. He's filled out, and the efforts of hopping around through space and time like a wayward cricket have taken their toll on him, just as much as they have on both himself and the mage. He knows that there's more grey in his hair these days than he likes to think about; knows that the stubble that so frequently shadows his chin might very well turn into a beard one of these days. Fai is still in his lap, still staring at Syaoran, and Kurogane takes the time to study him as well. The tell-tale signs of age have progressed much more slowly here, but they are there nonetheless.

Here and there a silver strand peaks out in defiance of the overwhelming blond, and there are lines around the mage's eyes Kurogane knows weren't there a couple of years ago. Even the set of his mouth seems somehow more mature, and Kurogane leans in, captures that mouth with his own, turns the mage's head with the force of his kiss. And Fai sighs into it, lips pressing back and mouth opening for him like so many times, so many worlds before. He knows that they shouldn't be doing this here, and when the kiss breaks, the mage remonstrates on just exactly how inappropriate it is.

"Really, Kuro-sama," he tuts, clicking his tongue in a way that Kurogane has come to associate with fake disapproval through the years. "What if the children wake up and find you molesting me? They'll be scarred for life." Kurogane grunts at that, lowers his head to the smooth skin where neck meets shoulder and gives it a bite that is just this side of too hard, and is pleased when the mage makes a noise halfway between a gasp and a giggle.

"I don't see any damn children," he says when he's done, and Fai turns fully in his lap, squirms in ways Kurogane's sure he shouldn't be capable of, not at their age at least. Fingertips brush the sides of his face then, a thumb runs along the line of his jaw, and it's too much. He stands, not an easy feat considering the squirming ball of Fai in his arms, and relocates them as quickly as possible to the equally tiny bedroom. In between hungry kisses and bumping into an assortment of obstacles, from walls to doors to small tables that stand where no small table has a right to stand, they somehow make it to the room. And once Kurogane has the door open (accidentally cracking the jamb, because even after so long, he's still not aware of just how strong that artificial arm is, at least not when he's excited), they fall gracelessly on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs and sloppy out-of-breath kisses.

"So frisky, Kuro-tan," Fai chuckles, eyes warm and content and Kurogane hardens all the more, feels lust burn along his nerve endings to pool languorously in his abdomen. They kiss again, slower this time, and Kurogane thinks what it would be like to never have had this at all. He hates the thought, and presses himself closer to Fai, hands gripping the other man's slender waist and smothers him with his own weight to make sure he doesn't disappear, doesn't dissolve into thin air right before his eyes.

"Kurogane." Fai's voice is quiet, patient, and a slim hand combs through his hair, gentle and reassuring. Kurogane thinks on how strange the progression of time has been. At first all he had wanted to hear was his name, but what he'd gotten instead was a bunch of frivolous nicknames. Then, by the time he'd finally gotten so used to the nicknames that he sometimes even thought of himself in those terms, the mage had turned the world on its head again and refused to call him anything _but_ his full name. Now though... Now, Kurogane knows, it doesn't matter how Fai addresses him, as long as he never leaves his side again.

"Kuro-tan," Fai repeats, and Kurogane focuses all of his attention on the other man. "I don't mean to spoil the mood, Kuro-papa, but I think things would be easier if you'd just scoot over a bit." Kurogane huffs indignantly and Fai giggles, but in the end he obliges and shifts his weight so that he's not stifling the other man anymore. "That's better," Fai purrs and arches against him so that Kurogane can feel the hot, unmistakeable heat of the mage's erection pressing against his own. The heat in his groin turns into an insistent ache, and he can feel a small damp patch where his cock strains against the confines of his pants. Dammit if the mage doesn't know how to turn him into a sex-crazed mess. He releases his deathgrip on Fai's waist, trails his fingers slowly up and down, counting ribs here and feeling the jut of a hipbone there. Fai moans, a welcome sound, spurring him on.

But when his hands reach for the buckles on the mage's pants, Fai swats his hand away and grins at him mischievously. "Uh-uh, Kuro-puu," he tuts again, and waggles a finger at Kurogane. And then, because Kurogane always forgets that Fai isn't anywhere near as frail as he looks, he's rolled over and onto his back with Fai straddling his hips. And the sight of him, dishevelled and eyes bright and a brilliant pink flush suffusing his cheeks, makes Kurogane's mouth water in anticipation. Fai leans back, rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, exposing a creamy throat and then thrusts his hips forward slowly, tentatively. And Kurogane wonders briefly if he's died, because it feels so damn good.

"Kuro-sama," Fai whispers, leaning forward and weaving his fingers with Kurogane's own, trapping his hands beside his head as his thrusts speed up. The drag of Fai's cock against his own sends wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him, sensation racing along his spine and settling coil-tight in his belly. Every thrust is that much sweeter than the last, the friction almost unbearable. But just when it feels as though he's about to drop off the edge of an unseen cliff and into blessed, blissful oblivion, the mage stops.

"What the -" Kurogane can't keep from growling in dissatisfaction and struggles against Fai's hands. But Fai pins him with just one smouldering look, eyes glassy and half-lidded, and Kurogane lets his head drop back, tries to steady his ragged breathing. And when Fai releases one of his hands and pins it with the other in his own remaining one, Kurogane doesn't complain. Because he can see what the mage is planning to do now, even as his other hand trails down Kurogane's chest, tweaking a nipple through the fabric of his shirt and tickling along his ribs. He still can't entirely swallow the gasp that escapes his mouth when Fai's hand slips beneath his pants and fondles him. And then Fai leans forward and presses their bodies close and _moves_ , one hand bent awkwardly to pump his cock, and Kurogane comes with a strangled cry.

As Fai grinds down onto him, riding him and sending aftershocks tingling down his spine, Kurogane frees his left hand, fumbles in-between them and cups Fai's cock. The mage lets out a breathy moan and thrusts once, twice more and comes as well, whispering nonsensical things against his chest.

It takes a while for Kurogane to recover; after all, he's long past twenty and won't see thirty again. But once his heart stops hammering frantically in his chest and he gets his breathing back to normal, he lifts his head to stare down at Fai, who in turn is lazily drawing patterns on Kurogane's stomach with the tip of a finger. He sniffs, loudly and pointedly, and Fai looks up at him, a picture of innocence. "Well?" he asks.

"Well what, Kuro-rin?" the mage retorts teasingly, as though he has no clue what Kurogane is talking about.

"What the hell are we going to tell the other two tomorrow morning?! We don't have any extra clothes, you moron!" Kurogane just barely manages not to scream. Hissing is bad enough, but at least it won't wake Syaoran and the manjuu. Fai just smiles at him, scissors his fingers like a pair of legs and walks them up Kurogane's torso and throat and taps lightly at his nose.

"Well, that's not entirely true," he says quietly. "I asked Mokona to keep those yukata you seem to like so much. You know, the ones that show off my -" Kurogane hastily shuts him up with a kiss, and can swear he feels the idiot chuckle into his mouth.

"We'll make a plan come morning. But first: sleep," he says firmly when they break apart, and Fai hums in happy agreement before tucking himself into Kurogane's side.


End file.
